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St
Nicholas, Shereford

Here we have a delightful, slightly
dumpy, round tower set against a pretty church that is
almost a gallery of windows of different periods. And St
Nicholas is so remote! Here, off this winding lane in the
valleys to the south of Fakenham, something happened to
me that has never happened before, and cannot happen to
anyone very often. As I stood in the graveyard, looking
around at the verdant spring growth, I noticed the last,
the very last of the snowdrops. They had been so late
everywhere this year, but it seemed extraordinary that
this little clump could have survived into the middle of
April. And as I stood there looking at them, I heard the
cuckoo, off in the trees over towards Dunton, the first
cuckoo of the year. To hear a cuckoo and see snowdrops at
the same time seemed unlikely; I lifted my face to the
warm sun, and it felt good to be alive.

I wandered
around. The north wall has shadows of arches in it, that
lead you to suspect something that will be confirmed
inside. The south doorway of the nave is full of
self-importance, and rightly so: it is Norman just
becoming Early English. The narrow wooden porch
protecting it is rather odd, I think, although not
unpleasant. You step into a long building full of light,
and the first thing that strikes you is the arcade set in
the north wall. There was once an aisle here, and more
evidence of it is in the form of a piscina, now set
outside on the north wall.

The
windows on the south side are large and deep-set, and the
thick wall is obviously the original Norman church. The
chancel has, I think, been rebuilt, and has been
refurbished and reordered very recently. Pleasingly,
there are brick floors throughout, and although the new
bricks up here look a little stark, they will mellow with
age. I really think the parish should be proud of itself
for doing this. The overall impression is of a quietly
spiritual place, at once timeless and very Anglican. The
only slightly jarring note is the kitschy statue of the
church's patron Saint, which I thought was a bit creepy.
The children in particular reminded me of those
fibreglass collecting boxes for Barnados and the Spastic
Society that used to stand outside supermarkets when I
was a child. But that is a small point.

St
Nicholas is not the most important church in Norfolk,
either historically or architecturally, but it feels
special; or, at least, it did to me.